


Opera Gloves

by beckzorz (heckofabecca)



Series: looks to die for [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Foreplay, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Smut, Teasing, assassin reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 20:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20414122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckofabecca/pseuds/beckzorz
Summary: An unexpected text at a totally different opera—but your colleague will survive you ducking out early.





	Opera Gloves

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble is set shortly after "Dressed to Kill." Second section (after the section break) was written in 7 minutes for a challenge. Originally posted in two parts.

The gloves are long, ending a few inches above your elbow. Black, of course, to go with your black dress. Little buttons at the wrist. And all of it the sleekest silk money can buy.

Not your money, naturally. But the gloves are yours now. The buyer is… indisposed. Indefinitely.

Diamonds on your neck, tugging at your ears—times like this, life is like a movie. All the Old Hollywood wardrobes you’d sighed over as a child are yours, times like this.

You hook your hand in Luka’s elbow. He slants a grin down at you. He looks out of a movie too, even if he’s more tall and blond and slender than your actual love interest.

“When was the last time you sat through a whole opera?” he asks.

You tip your head back and try to remember. “I think… four years ago? In New York.”

Luka presses his lips together, but there’s no hiding the laughter in his eyes. You nudge him with your hip.

“What about you?”

“Well, never, but I don’t actually like opera like you do. I prefer straight theater.”

“You would,” you mutter.

You can’t blame him, even if you disagree. Luka’s always been more straightforward. To his credit, really. Half the fun of going to the opera is people watching, which is basically ninety percent of your job, and his. Theater always seems to have more going on, or maybe you just pay better attention to the stage when there’s no long arias.

Still, Luka’s an indulgent date. You’ve got a box to yourselves—blue velvet in this opera house, not the red velvet of the last one you’d been to.

The last opera…

You bite your lip to contain your filthy grin. Luka’s watching the orchestra for the overture, but your brain has been hotwired by the hottest night of your life.

It’s only been two months since the night you’d first met Bucky Barnes in the flesh. Two months since the hottest night of your life. Sex in public, with a stranger, a _ gorgeous _ stranger, one who was so enamoured of you after just one night that he’d gone looking for you.

Two whole weeks of looking, and now you can’t help but clench your thighs at the memory of seeing him bared for the first time on that island.

“Thought you were gonna pay attention,” Luka whispers in your ear.

You flinch.

“I am,” you retort. You cross your legs firmly and clench the arm of your chair.

_ Focus. For Luka. _

Twelve minutes go by, and you’re reasonably well behaved. You bury all thoughts of your—of Bucky, tucking them away for later.

Then your phone buzzes.

You shoot Luka an apologetic glance as you tug it from your clutch. Is it Kasie? Or—

_ Bucky. _

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you take in the message. _ 8 o’clock. _You lean forward on the railing.

“What?” Luka asks.

Your eyes trail across the boxes across from you, and then—

_ Bucky! _

Your heart skips a beat, then another. He’s not looking your way, but there’s a little smile curving his plush lips. Oh, to touch those lips, to kiss them…

“Oh my god,” Luka mutters. “You two are absolutely incorrigible.” And he should know—he’d been on that island, when Bucky had swooped down on you. Luka nudges your arm. “Go on, go on. Just keep it in your pants until you leave the building.”

You can’t help but giggle. A kiss on Luka’s smooth cheek, and you’re gone, whisking out of the room quick as anything.

The farther you get from your old box, the louder your shoes pound against the floor and the louder your heart pounds in your chest. A grin tugs at your lips.

Bucky’s waiting—but not for long.

* * *

Bucky kneels between your spread legs, your thighs hooked over his, baring you to his hungry gaze. He grips your hips, his eyes black with hunger and thirsty need. Your black silk dress is on the floor along with your shoes, your stockings, your diamonds. All that’s left are your black silk gloves.

His hands glide up your body, just grazing your breasts. You arch your back with an impatient mewl, brow pinched as you pout and curl a hand around him. He hisses at the feel of silk on his hot skin, and you laugh breathlessly as he yanks your hand away.

“You really don’t know how to wait, do you?” he murmurs.

“For you?” You bite your lip, trail your eyes up and down his gorgeous body. “No.”

Bucky draws your hand to his face. He catches the little button at your wrist between his teeth, his face as darkly gleeful as your own. Your thighs clench around his waist as you remember how his mouth feels on you, and then you gasp as he sneaks his metal hand between your legs, slipping cool and slick between your wet folds.

“Well,” he says, “I suppose I can live with that.”


End file.
